


What didn't happen

by bmlhillenkeene



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Child Abuse, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:06:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmlhillenkeene/pseuds/bmlhillenkeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I'm maybe a little insane and completely in love with little Nobby Nobbs from Nightwatch.</p>
<p>AU; Hand wavy reason, Sam Vimes never got back to his future, everything got changed too much and no he's stuck in his own past, watching himself grow up and trying so very hard not to mess up so badly that he (that is the younger him) never gets the future he should. Because Sam Vimes loves Sybil, with all that's left of his heart after the job, and he wants himself to feel that again, or for the first time (whichever doesn't give him the biggest headache).</p>
<p>In the meantime he seems to have found himself the unwilling (but not entirely uncaring) caretaker for one Cecil Wormsborough St. John "Nobby" Nobbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Son't ask me, it got stuck in my head, what with Vimes being all gruffly, adorably, almost fatherlike to Nobby in the Nightwatch book, making sure he's fed and whatnot. I just wanted more of that, and Nobby is one of my favourite characters in the Guards Books, catapulted there over even Detritius and Cheery (who were tied for second place after Sybil Ramkin) after I read Jingo. I felt for him during that book, and now Nightwatch has slayed me!

He was John Keel now.

It was his own damn fault of course, he'd gone and changed History a little too much and now he was stuck in a world that was his own and yet wasn't. He wasn't getting home, he'd spent too many depressing days being told such by the History Monks. His only momento of that time that no longer was, his cigar case. He traced the words inside often, running careful fingers across "Your Sybil" and feeling his heart pang in his chest painfully.

He'd been made Captain, how or why he didn't even begin to guess at, but he was and he resigned himself to it, to this life now.

With nothing else to lose he was doing his damndest to turn himself, his younger self, into a man Sybil could truly be proud of in the future, not that she wouldn't be proud whatever, but he had always felt that she saw him as something else, something more than he was. In his own way he has aspired to that view, but he wanted young Sam to be so much more than he was, a better husband. He was careful, he had to be, but he pushed for it still.

The other major change (on top of just about everything else), was the constant sight of young Nobby Nobbs around the watch house. In Vime's past Nobby Nobbs hadn't come into any real exsistance until he'd joined the watch at 15, scraggly and ugly and Fred Colon, had taken him under his wing. Sam had been 26 then and was starting to becme disillusioned with the world. Now Nobby was always around, underfoot. Vimes' had decided, after the third time the petty cash went missing to give the boy a whole dollar a week to run messages for the watch. If he could break Nobby of his habit of nicking the petty cash early he would. It seemed to be working, his new hiding place remained undisturbed so far.

Nobby showed up as the Watch was getting on duty and would tell Vimes everything that had been going on out on the streets that day, he'd stay for a while to see if there was any food going, stay for a while more if there was, asking questions about what they did and their weapons and any other thing that popped into his head. He was bright. It was easy to forget that sometimes, but he was frightenly bright. Vimes had occassionally found him curled up in the stables sleeping the night away, but he didn't say anything, just covered him up with a blanket and made sure to have an extra bowl of porriage ready in the morning.

Things went on like this for a long while, and Vimes found himself settling into the life he had carved out as John Keel, getting back into the rythym of life as just a copper, trying to forget what he could no longer have. He did his best to help Young Sam along, but sometimes it got to be much, sometimes he had to take a step back, bury himself in whatever work he could and block out the harsh reality that was his life now, to grieve for everything he's lost.

It was after one such 'black mood' as the others put it, that Vimes' noticed something missing.

"Where's Nobby?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"He hasn't been in for nearly a week sir." Young Sam answered promptly.

"Figure he got bored Captain, you know what kids like him are like." Colon piped in.

Vimes frowned, he didn't really think that a kid like Nobby would give up a dollar a week, more than he's ever managed doing the other odd jobs he did. He made a note to ask around, see if anything had happened he'd need to take care of, but for now he pushed it aside to worry about later, he had a watch house to get back into order.


	2. Chapter 2

Vimes kept noticing the lack of Nobby Nobbs. Once he would have thought that was ridiculous, in his own time he was glad to forget the corprol was there sometimes, but now... well now his absence seemed wrong somehow. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something fundementally wrong with the boy suddenly ditching what amounted to a small fortune for him so suddenly. Iit was the same feeling he got when clues just didn't make sense (not that clues ever actually made sense until afterwards, but it amounted to the same thing).

His patrols took him down the roads he vaguely recalled Nobby mentioning as where his family was staying, keeping his eyes peeled for the large jacket and top hat, but saw nothing. He asked some of the other urchins he came across, but each of them shrugged, and he didn't have nearly enough pennies for the inevitable swarm if he started to pay them for information, so he kept looking.

In the end he found Nobby by literally tripping over the boy. 

Iit had started raining and he'd moved into one of the alleys where the roof overhung just enough to give some shelter. He'd kicked some rubbish out of his way and was surprised when the bundle cried out "Oi! Watch it!"

"Nobby?" Vimes said, of course he would find him in the last place he'd expected, that was Nobby for you.

The rubbish shifted and Nobby's head came up, big eyes fixing on Vimes face. "Oh! Hullo Captain Keel!" he said, a sickly looking grin spreading across his face. "Fancy meetin' you here sir."

Vimes' frowned, he'd seen that glassy stare often enough in his time as a copper. Someone had given Nobby a good hard clip round the ear, sending him into the nearest wall no doubt, knocking him half senseless if Vimes was any judge. He'd seen enough men, women and children in his time with that look. The way Nobby was clutching his left arm to his chest told Vimes exactly who it had been. Nobby's father was a known brute, right up until he'd died he'd been dragged into the cells to sleep off a night of heavy drinking and heavier fighting. Everyone knew what he did to his wife and sons (well, Mostly Nobby), but no one said or did anything about it. 

The classic Morporkian sense of community. People like the Nobbs fell beneath most peoples radar. Kids like Nobby fell even further, no one noticed them unless it was to give them a kick to make them go away. Nobby, the older one, had always made throwaway comments about the abuse he suffered, offhand and without any hint of anger at his situation, it had just been life to him them. It was just life to him now.

Vimes heaved a sigh. "Can you walk Nobby?" he asked, he didn't want to have to carry him, but he would if no other choice presented itself.

Nobby frowned, his odd features twisting in confusion. "Captain?" but the boy was scrabbling to his feet, arm still clutched to him, hisses of pain escaping through pain clenched teeth.

That did it. Vimes wasn't a cruel man, and getting Nobby to Dr Lawn would be much faster if he walked for both of them. He bent down, scooped the boy off his feet, and easy feat, he was still too light for a boy his age even with all the feeding he was getting. There was a startled sqwauk from Nobby, but nothing more. He glanced down and Nobby's face had gone white under the grime and his hand was pressed to his mouth. Vimes knew what that was like, with a head would, even if it didn't draw blood, ever movement felt too much. He stopped, letting Nobby lean away from him to dry heave his nusea away.

He ignored the rain, and the curious stares of the few others on the street. He ignored the smell of the boy in his arms, and when Nobby was ready he caried on, making a beeline to Dr Lawns house, his own house as well he supposed, for all the time he spent there. At the very least the man wouldn't be surpirsed to see his occassional housemate coming in with another patient for him.


	3. Chapter 3

To his credit Dr Lawn didn't look surprised when Vimes shouldered his way into the house calling for him, he hadn't got as far as his bed and was still dressed when he appeared at the door of his own treatment room. "And what, pray tell, is it this time? Some poor sap who made the mistake of sneaking up on you?"

Before Vimes could answer Nobby piped up, a tad unsteadily. "He always knows it's me." the boy pointed out, and he wavered a little where he sat on the edge of Lawns table, his good arm still clutching at his bad one.

Lawn stepped forward, frowning deeply, his eyes tracking across Nobby, taking in the pale face, glassy stare, and very obviously broken arm. Then those shrewd eyes narrowed and snapped to Vimes, but Vimes' very understandably, indignant response was waved away before he had the chance to utter it. Vimes settled back, miffed that Lawn, even for a moment, could have thought that he would break a childs arm. A grown mans, yes, if he damn well deserved it, but not a child, not even Nobby's on his worst of days.

He watched in silence as Dr Lawn made a quick check to be sure the knock on the head and the arm were the only injuries before he set to work tackling them. Nobby did try his best to wriggle away from the attentions when he realised that resetting his arm might just hurt as badly as when it had been broken, but his protests died away under the twin, quelling stares of the doctor and the Watch Captain and he let Dr Lawn do his work.

Vimes was impressed at the level of cursing Nobby knew at this age, and deliberatly ignored the way tracks were appearing in the grime on his face. Let the boy have what diginity he could for now. He was sent from the room to get a bowl of the evenings dinner from the kitchen and when he returned Dr Lawn was carefully splinting the arm and wrapping bandages around it. While Nobby ate the food he was given Lawn pulled Vimes aside.

"Iit was a bad break, someone twisted his arm until the bone gave way. And that blow to his head was a nasty one, he's not going to be up to much for the next while I'm afraid."

Vimes waved a hand, wordlessly stating that it didn't really matter. He would find something for Nobby to do at the Watch house instead of sending him running about the city for a while until he was healed. He could practice his reading and writing or something, there were always paperwork that needed sorted somewhere, or he could leave him manning the main desk with Fred, he'd get a kick out of that at least, and Fred could use the practice looking after a kid with his first on the way.

"Is that all?" Vimes asked, an undercurrent in his tone letting Lawn know exactly what he wanted to know.

"This time. I wouldn't be surprised to find a lot of marks from previous encounters however." Lawn said confidently. "You know who is responsiable?"

"Got an idea." Vimes said, not entirely sure what he was intending to do with the information just yet, but it was probably going to involve punches being thrown and someone falling (prehaps repeatidly) down the stairs to the cells tonight if he was any judge. He wasn't above bringing the heavy hand of the law down on some people. Some people deserved it. (He ignored the part of his conscience that was part Carrot and part Sybil, because neother of them where here and he didn't want to have to live up to their expectations, not tonight at least). Nobby was a copper, granted a lot smaller and not actually sworn in right now, but you always backed up your own when you could, and you dealt out your own justice if you had to. 

And Nobby was his.

"I'll put him up in your bed tonight if that's alright." Lawn mentioned, nodding at whatever he'd seen on Vimes face. "I'd appreciate you didn't call on my again tonight." Which was implicit permission to leave certain people stewing overnight t look after whatever knocks he would take when he 'resisted arrest'.

Only then did Vimes realise Lawn intended to use his bed for Nobby for the night. His nose wrinkled. "Any chance you could get him into a bath before you do that?" he asked hopefully.

They glanced at Nobby, who was carefully licking the bowl clean, looking less pale now at least, bandages standing out starkly. Lawn looked calculating for a moment. "I can try... but I'm going to charge you for the soap."

Vimes nodded and strode over to Nobby, who blinked up at him, eyes more focused, if only by a little. "Alright Nobby?" he asked, waiting for the nod. "You'll be staying here tonight, so I want you to behave for Dr Lawn. I don't want to hear that anything's gotten 'lost' or that you've been playing silly buggers. You do what your told you hear me?" another nod, this one accompained by a worried looking expression. "Now lad. I know you know. Where's your dad at tonight?"

Nobby's eyes looked about to eclipse his whole face. "I... I..."

"Nobby." Vimes said, gentling his voice just a little. "Where's he at tonight?"

Nobby looked torn, he was a trustworthy enough kid for enough money, but there had always been a streak of loyalty on Nobby for his own. In Vimes own time that loyalty lay only with the Watch, but here and now Nobby was loyal to his family, his mum and brother definately, and his dad because he felt he should be. Vimes waited, because he knew some of the loyalty had moved across to him. Finally Nobby looked away, toying with his bowl. "The Klatchians Head." he said lowly.

Vimes reached out to pat his head. "Good lad. Be good for Dr Lawn." he gave the doctor a nod and left the room and the house. The Klatchians Head wasn't on his usual beat, but he was getting a bit thirsty and he thought it might be just the right place for a drink.


	4. Chapter 4

The Klatchians Head had never been a pub Vimes had frequented, at least, not one he could really remember frequenting. There was a lot from his drunken years that he didn't remember, when drinking had been, what seemed, like his only salvation from a life where being a copper meant nothing anymore. There were times now when he felt the old pull, more than ever before, because there was so much less for him to stay off the drink for.

He'd done it for Sybil... And Sybil wasn't here anymore, not in the way he wanted her to be.

But he fought the urge, every damn day and night, he fought it. He knew he wouldn't be able to climb back out of the pit once he'd fallen back in, not this time.

Seeing the patrons of the bar helped somewhat to steel his resolve, they were all drunk and loud and he grimaced at the sight, the ugly, reeking sight. Sconner Nobbs was easy to spot, not that he looked anything like Nobby, in fact the man was actually passably handsome. In fact, both Nobby's parents and presuemably his brother (thought Vimes had never met him), were quite good looking, comparably with everyone else. How Nobby had come from that was anyones guess; but none of them, so far as Vimes could tell, were terribly kind, and even less so to Nobby. Nobby however, in his own, guarded way, was. Life wasn't fair at all.

Sconner Nobbs was in the centre of a group of men, waving a pint of beer around and talking loudly. Vimes could hear him easily over the crowd.

"So's I come 'ome right?" he slurred. "I's come 'ome; an' the little bas'ard's gon'an joined up witcher... witcher... yah know, the watch! Thems that banged me up fer.. fer jus' takin' a liddle bitta, yah know, fluff like." He waved the glass again, which was suddenly half empty. "An' not only that! Not only that, but 'e was gettin' paid! Paid I seys! Fer runnin' mess... messanges fer them. Messanges!" Vimes didn't recognise the other men at the table who nodded, but he recognised the type. "Lil Bas'ard!" Sconner growled. "Foun' 'im tryin' ta hide it, gave 'im a right hidin' fer it. Hidin' money from 'is old man! Not the way I brought him up."

Vimes could almost see it. Nobby hoarded money, in all the time Vimes had known him the money he'd nicked from petty cash could always be found in its entirtity in Nobby's pockets. He'd gone too many years hungry, battered an bruised, either by his fathers heavy hand, or his mums forgetfulness. Nobby just liked to know he had the money if he needed it. Nobby had probbaly hidden every dollar he'd gotten, counted them every night and knew exactly what he'd spent every penny on. Sam Vimes had given Nobby a security he had never had before and Sconner, in one foul swoop had wrenched it all away.

It made Vimes' blood burn.

He waited until the man was so drunk he wouldn't remember the events of the night, seperated him from his companions, took back the money he'd stole from Nobby, and led the man back to the watch house. He was tempted, so very tempted, to give him some uexplained bruises, but refrained. 

Instead he took up postion behind Snouty's desk, emptying the contents of the money pouch that was as much old sock as anything else. There were a few things in there with the money that only a child would consider valuable, a single little raggity solider toy, some marbles that had been either found or nicked, and the old tin spoon from the morning so long ago and a withered sprig of lilac. These were the things Nobby considered to be as valuable as his money. Not that there was much left, half a dollar and a handful of pennies. Sconner had probably been using his sons hard earned money to buy rounds of drink for everyone, giving no thought at all to his family.

Vimes considered the measely pile of belongings on the desk.

"Captain?"

Vimes looked up to find Colon looking at him in some confusion. "Yes Fred?" he asked.

"Well sir, we was all wondering... I mean... you've been sitting there for a while now and..."

Good old Fred, Vimes thought, always the same no matter what time or universe he was in. "That man." he said gesturing towards the cell, raising his voice so the other memebers of the watch he knew were crowding just out of view to listen. "broke Nobby's arm today, left him with a pretty nasty knock to the head and stole his most precious possessions." he said it as casually as he could, waving a hand to the measely pile of childish treasures.

Fred's eyes scanned the table and then went to the man in the cell. Fred was a soft man, kind and generous when the mood took him, cowardly too, but he had his first child on the way. Vimes remembered feeling like that, like he wanted to make the world a better place for his child, in some way. Fred had a glint in his eye that was rarely seen, he had a soft spot for kids, it had been why he'd taken teenage Nobby under his wig in Vimes' past. "Orders sir?" the younger man asked.

Vimes shook his head, there were things he wanted to do, things he knew the other officers would want to do. Nobby had become a fixture, something that was theres in a small way, though none of them would admit it out loud. But Vimes wasn't that kind of policeman, and he didn't want the others to be that kind either. Even if the bastard in the cell deserved it. "Just keep him in overnight. We'll ship him off to the Tanty as soon as we can." he said.

Fred gave him a sharp salute. Vimes gathered the odds and ends back into the sock and stood, no one asked him where he was going. He knew the men were going to be roughter than they had to be with Sconner, but he couldn't, really, bring himself to care. He had some stolen property to return.


End file.
